


Enthralled

by Mother_of_Dragons



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Lisa, Reader is AFAB - Freeform, Vlad is sad :(, reader is not human, slight choking?, too many commas... sorry, you're a rebound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 17:44:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21149681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_of_Dragons/pseuds/Mother_of_Dragons
Summary: In a moment of henceforth uncharacteristic kindness, he turns you over so that you're face to face and acknowledges you by your true name, even going as far as to run a hand briefly (but gently) down the side of your face - a touch that you lean into even after its tenderness dissipates and he trails his hand down to rest at your throat.





	Enthralled

You try not to take it too personally when he calls you by her name. After all, had he been in his right mind, you doubt that you would have measured up to Lisa.

She had been his _ wife _, a physician in her own right and a human (and one virtually untainted by the evils of this world, at that) whereas, in comparison, you're only his thrall - an unremarkable servant, hardly distinguishable from the legion of thousands (perhaps even tens of thousands) of your kind, all similarly destined for a life of servitude until your purpose as cannon fodder is fulfilled on the battlefield, something that you had come to terms with… Until today.

For his sake, you stay as quiet as you can as he noses down the column of your neck with half-formed, frenzied kisses and lingers at the swell of your breasts, biting perhaps too hard in a way that makes you gasp as a delicious rush of pleasure and pain runs through you, his fangs swiping slowly across your hardened nipples as he laps leisurely at the shallow puncture marks that they had made, the rough pad of his tongue only serving to make your nipples more erect. 

It feels _ good _ to feel something again.

As a 'creature of the night' and a - you like to believe - rational thinker, your own self-interest had come to mind before any concern for _ his _ well being when he had initially summoned and propositioned you, a failing that you can't quite bring yourself to care about as he bends you over his desk and carelessly strips you of what remains of your undergarments, tearing at the fabric in one swipe until you're fully exposed to him. 

You stop him however, twisting your arm free from under you to tap at the muscle that effortlessly holds you down when your gaze falls upon the painting directly across from his desk.

The portrait, of course, features Lisa - a depiction of her seated at the very fireplace that now casts a light upon its haunting beauty. At her request no doubt, the artist had chosen to favour her profile poring over a complex medical tome instead of the standard selection of dainty poses that you had come to note the 'fairer sex' were often styled in. 

It feels too much like blasphemy to gaze upon her countenance, tangled up as you are in such a crude position with her husband.

Dracula must sense this, and in a moment of henceforth uncharacteristic kindness, he turns you over so that you're face to face and acknowledges you by your true name, even going as far as to run a hand briefly (but gently) down the side of your face - a touch that you lean into even after its tenderness dissipates and he trails his hand down to rest at your throat.

As if by magic, the moment comes to an abrupt end and he shifts you, almost carelessly, across the surface of the table until you can reach for purchase on its edge, spreading your legs enough for him to fit comfortably between them. From this angle, and with his hand around your throat, you can't see much bar his face and the ornate ceiling, but you follow your gut and lock your hips securely around his waist, testing his boundaries as you grind as best you can against the hardness of his length. 

The response this elicits is immediate and you can't help but be a _ little _ satisfied as he groans out something indecipherable and his hand tightens around your throat, pinning you to the desk. 

"Do not mistake me for your equal, I will lead and you follow. Any insolence on your part will not be rewarded, do you understand?" 

He punctuates each word by pressing down on your larynx, his scarlet eyes leering levelly at you until you struggle out a "y-yes" and he lets go, the weight of his stare alone keeping you down as you rub your sore throat. 

Placated, he shifts you back to your original position and delights in the wet arousal that pools between your thighs as he spreads your folds, fingers already slick.

His gaze meets yours briefly, and you swear he must be smirking before he focuses back on the task _ literally _ at hand, his thumb swiping over the bud of your clit and sending a jolt of pleasure through you, raising goosebumps along the tops of your arms and soliciting an embarrassing moan. Clearly amused, he repeats this once more before drawing away, leaving you wanting and yet relieved, weary as you are of his particularly sharp nails. 

"Prepare yourself" 

Intrigued, you risk potential admonishment to prop yourself up on your elbows and watch, unobstructed, as he undoes his trousers and frees his already weeping length and pumps it, fully erect, through his fist. You gulp at the sight of him fully exposed although, you must admit that you're not surprised - even now, he towers above you, his big stature all the more accentuated by his tight fitting suit. 

Biting down on your lip, you worry it to the point of redness between your teeth in anticipation when he stills, eyes drawn to the movement offset by the firelight.

You think that you glimpse a hint of forlorn longing in his eyes, just for a second, as he watches but you ascertain your wishful thinking for the fantasy that it is and dismiss it without a second thought, after all, kissing would be too… intimate for a simple rebound. 

The same thought seems to cross his mind and he places his hand on your hip to steady you as he lines himself up with your entrance, purposefully swiping the tip agonisingly slowly once, _ twice _ against you and bringing forth the sensation of butterflies fluttering in your stomach before sinking into you, coming to rest right at the apex of your cervix.

A cry slips out unbidden at being filled so completely and the soft burn which accompanies it, and this time you're _ sure _ that he's smirking before he pulls out of and re-enters you, making a show of doing this slowly so that you can both watch as you become one.

Finally, he establishes a steady pace as he slides in and out of you and you take this chance to lay back, gazing at him as you do so. As is to be expected, his facial expression has changed minimally, but he is clearly enjoying himself - evident from the gruff grunts that accompany each thrust and the soft _ smack _ of skin on skin. 

You hike your legs around his waist for more purchase, inadvertently pulling you closer together as you reach up to play with your bouncing breasts and Vlad, groaning primally at the sight of you so splayed out for him, can't help but allow your little act of disobedience, picking up the pace accordingly as ringed muscle clenches deliciously around him. 

Before long, you feel your impending orgasm building as the heady sensation of fire pooling low in your abdomen begins to cloud all coherent thought.

Close too, you feel his thrusts increase as he pulls you nearer, fist closing around your neck in time with every carnal thrust, each squeeze incrementally harder than the last, leaving the edges of your vision blurred and you hypersensitive to his touch as his free hand leaves your hip and snakes, tantalisingly, up your body, batting your hands to the side so that he can fondle your breasts in their stead, his eyes _ glowing _ a faint crimson until you’re over the edge and are bombarded with white, hot pleasure.

You can’t help but tighten your fingers on the edge of the desk, knuckles straining against the Oak and gasping for air as you ride out your orgasm, Dracula following close behind as his thrusts shudder to a halt. 

Still joined and sweating slightly, the familiar flutter of butterflies returns as you feel him twitch as he spills his seed inside of you, panting softly. 

A moment passes, punctuated solely by the crackling of the flames before you sit up, cringing inwardly at the wetness - thankfully, not bloody like his tears - dripping down your legs (slowly at first, and then almost all at once) but you decide against disturbing him, now seated across from the hearth, and pull up what remains of your underclothes, slipping your cloak soundlessly across your shoulders as you get up from the desk. 

Too engrossed in staring into the flames, he takes no notice of you until you make for the door and he calls out your name, grinding your movements to a halt. 

"Call in my generals before you go, we have much to discuss" 

Expecting just as much, you simply tilt your head in deference to him, avoiding Lisa's hollow stare as you make your exit and shut the door gently behind you. 


End file.
